


Old Men

by pseudosmodingium



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotions, Ficlet, M/M, Married Castiel/Dean Winchester, Nostalgic Dean Winchester, au-ish, can also be read as post-canon, mentions of wall sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 19:34:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11470260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseudosmodingium/pseuds/pseudosmodingium
Summary: They're happy together but they're old. Though, is this really a bad thing?





	Old Men

**Author's Note:**

> Why did I do this? I made myself cry writing it and I blame it all on PMS.

Dean is old. He knows this. He doesn’t need to take a look into a mirror and see the white strands of hair sprouting at his temples or the salt and pepper stubble on his cheeks and chin to know it. His left knee creaks every time he struggles to lift himself up from the sofa and feels funny on rainy days. He knows it when he tries to read the paper in the morning and the letters start to blur into an indefinable mess of black ink. He reaches for his glasses, expecting them to lie next to his cup of coffee but they aren’t there. He turns half the house upside down in search of his eyewear ‘cause is it really too much to ask to just be able to read the goddamn news.

Then Cas appears in the laundry room when Dean is in the middle of rummaging through dirty underwear in the hamper, asking amusedly, “Are you looking for your glasses again?”

Dean doesn’t know what the hell he finds so funny about his hopeless raid for the lost spectacles and sends him a glare. This, though, doesn’t scare Cas off and he steps up to him, placing a soft kiss against his lips and as he withdraws Dean’s glasses magically appear out of nowhere in Cas’s hands and he sets them on his nose. “They were on your head the whole time,” he says, “again.”

Dean doesn’t feel like reading the newspaper anymore. Parts of his body hurt for no apparent reason and he forgets things. He doesn’t want to be old.

Cas is old, too. Nevertheless, Dean likes his marbled head of hair. When the gray began to win over the brown, he considered dyeing it but Dean talked him out of it. _Silver suits you,_ he said. He always said that. All the jewelry he ever got him was silver. Their wedding rings are made of silver.

He also knows that Cas doesn’t feel as old as he does. He doesn’t have to, Dean thinks. He’s still almost as youthful as he used to be. Of course, when they have to go to the ER in the middle of the night because Cas hurt his back as he tried to hoist him up against a wall to fuck him like they loved to do when they were younger, Dean is reminded that time keeps outrunning them.

Sometimes he wishes he could just take the clock from the wall in the kitchen and turn it back or flip through a calendar the wrong way just to feel as juvenile as he did twenty-five years ago.

He’s looking at old photos on his computer and a nice one of Cas comes up. Cas is wearing a plain white T-shirt with rolled up sleeves and baggy blue jeans that lie low on his hips and if the quality were better Dean could zoom in and catch a glimpse of Cas’s underwear peeking out. He’s wearing a yellow hard hat and is resting his weight on a sledgehammer. The skin on his strong arms is more tan than usual and Dean knows the picture was taken during the summer they spent building their house. The one they’re still living in.

Dean remembers Cas hauling him up by his thighs the day they had finished the last wall and fucking him into oblivion _. We have to christen the house,_ he said, and they sure did, considering how many deities Dean must have summoned then. They were both sweaty from a day of hard work and probably stunk like hell but neither of them cared.

Dean comes all over his hand after he’s been taking in every detail of the photo for a while. Actually, it’s not his hand but young Cas’s. He can smell the heavy musky scent of him. The white shirt has turned transparent where it stretches over his pecs. His nipples are on high alert, poking into the cotton. He takes off the hat, damp hair sticking to his head, and places a wet kiss on Dean’s neck. _I miss you,_ Dean says. _I miss us._

 _We’re still here,_ Young Cas tells him.

 _No, we’re not. We’re only shadows of who we used to be,_ Dean tells him.

 _Does this mean you don’t love me anymore?_ Young Cas asks. _I may have wrinkles around the eyes now and I can’t lift you as easily as I could, but I’m still me._

_Of course I still love you. I won’t ever stop. It’s just…I’m old. You’re old._

_And that’s all I ever wanted when we were young. Growing old with you,_ Young Cas says and that’s exactly what Dean ever wanted, too.

Dean keeps flipping through images for a while, watching the house get done and the newly planted trees in the yard grow. He watches Sam getting married and his nieces learning to walk and getting out of their diapers and then, suddenly, there’s their high school graduation and Dean is so damn proud of his little girls. The older one got married last year and it feels like yesterday that he had her on his arm, her tiny fingers reaching for his face.

“What are you doing?” Cas says. Present-Day Cas, his Cas, the only Cas there ever was.

Dean is startled by his voice. He notices it’s gone dark outside, there’s only the glow of the computer screen illuminating its immediate surroundings. “Looking at old pictures,” he says.

Cas walks up to him and places a warm hand on his shoulder. “Oh, look at that,” he says, referring to the current photo which shows him under an impressive rock formation that was taken during their trip to Garden of the Gods in Colorado a few years ago.

“I love the sunglasses you’re wearing there,” Dean says.

“They’re yours. I stole them from you and I think you just gave me permission to keep them,” Cas replies and huffs a small laugh. “Come to bed, Dean. It’s late.”

Dean switches off the computer and follows his husband into the bedroom. Both get under the covers in their underwear and when Cas is about to turn off the lamp on his nightstand, Dean scoots closer and wraps an arm around his waist, rolling him on his other side so Cas faces him. Cas takes a quick glance up at his eyes, then leans in and kisses him. They’ve been together for ages and Dean doesn’t have to use words to communicate what he wants. A touch is enough.

Soon, Dean is on his back and Cas is on top of him, their underwear somewhere at the foot of the bed. Dean closes his eyes while they kiss and tries to imagine Young Cas’s hand at his sides, Young Cas’s mouth sucking at a nipple but then they snap open and he is happy to find Old Cas looking at him with a roguish smile. “What?” Cas asks.

“Do you ever miss wall sex?”

“We’re too old for wall sex, Dean. But we still have bed sex and couch sex and washing machine sex, so I’m fine,” Cas says. “Why’re you asking?”

“Looking at the pictures made me nostalgic.”

“Oh, Dean, I’ll make sure there’s no reason for you to be sentimental,” Cas says and pushes past Dean’s rim. Dean releases a groan and grabs Cas by the back of his head and crushes their lips together.

“I love you, you know that?” Dean pants in response.

“I figured,” Cas says and his next thrust hits the mark. They’ve done this for years and a lot, so Cas knows exactly how to push Dean’s buttons.

It’s quick and dirty and Dean is sure his lower back is going to hurt tomorrow but right know he’s in heaven. The sex is perfect, Cas is perfect, his life is perfect and he feels dumb for yearning for the past. Young Cas was right and Old Dean knows it. Who needs wall sex anyway when he can have this, right here with Cas in his arms after they’re cleaned up, both tracing their matching tattoos on each other’s shoulders with their fingers. Cas’s other hand runs smoothly down his cheek and Dean can feel the wedding band on his ring finger.

“Silver goes well with your eyes,” Dean says and Cas smiles briefly before he reaches for the light switch.

“Sleep, Dean,” he murmurs against his chest when the room has darkened.

“Cas?” Dean whispers anyway.

“Hm?” Cas hums grumpily.

“Do you sometimes hate that we’re old men?”

“As long as you’re my old man and I’m yours, I couldn’t care less.”

Dean smiles into the blackness around them, drops a kiss into Cas’s hair which he knows isn’t as dark as it seems now and eventually closes his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm awful.


End file.
